


Kiss Quick

by Dystopian_Dramaqueen, thismidnight



Series: When You Find Me [2]
Category: The Handmaid's Tale (TV), The Handmaid's Tale - Margaret Atwood
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-12
Updated: 2019-06-12
Packaged: 2020-05-01 23:31:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19187458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dystopian_Dramaqueen/pseuds/Dystopian_Dramaqueen, https://archiveofourown.org/users/thismidnight/pseuds/thismidnight
Summary: The next chapter of "Slow Dancing In A Burning Room."Nick is deployed to the front. They run into eachother at the Lincoln Monument in DC.Nick makes the reunion memorable.(All happy. Some brief suspense. ZERO angst.)





	Kiss Quick

_I'm not quite myself tonight,_  
_But the way you touch me makes me tongue tied._

 _I know love,_ _and it's all push and shove,_  
S _o stop talking_ _and put your back into it._  
_Loaded, oh my hands shook to hold it_  
_I turned her body on, I turned her body on myself._

-"Kiss Quick" by Matt Nathanson

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

June is annoyed when a new guardian steps to her side, taking her arm and marching her down the corridor, away from Nick.

 

They continue outside, into the blinding sunlight. The sight before her takes her breath. June keeps her face even despite her shock.

 

Washington, DC. The mall. The reflecting pool. She'd been here on a school field trip as a kid.

 

It's been mutilated. The Washington Monument is now a crucifix. The crowds of tourists are gone. Regimented groups of handmaids in their place. Mouths sewn shut. Muzzled. 

 

She sees this from the steps of Lincoln's monument. Lincoln, the liberator of slaves. But Lincoln's likeness is gone. Like all of the symbols of hope and freedom, his statue has been destroyed. She steels herself. This isn't the time to grieve things lost. 

 

June is paraded in front of the crowd, positioned behind the Waterford family. 

 

Today's press conference is a stunt. Waterford is filming propaganda videos to raise sympathy for Gilead with the international community. It’s fucking sick. She glances at the TV cameras. Wondering briefly if Luke can see this.

 

Fred speaks about her. The mother of a stolen baby. She stops listening after that. _Got to hand it to him. That may be the first true thing he's ever said._

 

June is dismissed after a few minutes. Marched back the inside.

 

She stands, head down- listening to Fred drone on over the loudspeakers. His prayers, like the American monuments, have been twisted, deformed- stripped of everything holy or meaningful. Any parts that inspired hope or courage have been dissected out. Leaving the prayers empty and meaningless.  

 

She hears movement behind her. Her adrenaline spikes.

 

The guardian assigned to her stands at attention before walking away. She remains alert, nervous.

 

She feels a hand brush against hers. Warmth floods her body. _It’s him. Nick._   She'd know his energy, his touch anywhere. 

 

He's bolder this time. Thumb circling her palm. A secret spot he knows she loves. Her body responds to him. Aroused. Even here. Even with so little contact. Offering him heat. Moisture. His. Always. She knows he can feel it too. The electricity, the communication between their bodies. His pulse is racing, his skin warmer than normal.

 

He closes her fingers into a fist with a firm squeeze before he too walks away.

 

Heart pounding- she draws a breath and glances over her left shoulder. Her escort is nowhere to be seen. No one is guarding her. Nick must have sent him on an errand. If that was Nick. _Of course it was Nick._ She checks her right side. No aunts nearby. Really no supervision at all.

 

Then she feels it. Something in her hand. She moves it from her palm, thumb and index finger searching for information. It’s flat. Rectangular. Crispy. Thin. It’s paper. A tiny slip of paper.

 

Her mind races. Heart running away from her in earnest now. Jesus, that was bold. She smiles involuntarily. She likes this new Nick. Powerful. Confident.

 

After glancing around one more time, she adjusts her hands prayerfully from back to front. Head down with the wings as a cover, she turns her palm up to read the tiny message.

 

_Water fountain_

_North hall_

_5 minutes_

 

She shreds the paper behind her back. 

 

She slowly backs away from the crowd and heads toward the restrooms. Glad for once to be invisible.

 

She arrives at the end of the abandoned North hallway. Looking around.

 

No sign of Nick.

 

Until she’s pulled into a broom closet. Backed against the door in the pitch darkness. He’s kissing her already. Quiet moans escaping him. Pressing himself into her hard. Hard against her. Hard everywhere. She’s moaning too. It can’t be helped. Clinging to the lapels of his jacket for balance as her knees go weak. Needing him just as desperately.

 

Nick rips her wings and bonnet off roughly, dropping them to the floor. Like turning a family photo to the wall. Like ripping expensive lingerie in a rush get it off. 

 

He takes her bun down, spreading her hair over her shoulders. Kissing her then with both hands on her face. Gently and fiercely at the same time. Clearly having trouble holding himself back.

 

And just like that she’s herself again. June Osborne. Free. In the darkness. Kissing her boyfriend in this tiny space that smells of bleach and windex. This could be his childhood bedroom in Michigan or his apartment above the garage. The second floor of the Boston Globe or their cabana in Maui. This could be their cabin in the Rockies. This stolen moment. It’s theirs. They’re free.

 

_His hands are greedy._

_Awakening her body._

_Reclaiming it._

_Without removing any clothing._

_His touch arouses her._

_Leaving her raw and tingling for more._

_Leaving her alive and hopeful._

_Flushed. Awake._

_He moans desperately with every breath._

_Whimpering urgently into her mouth._

_The sound of his need unbearably arousing._

_Igniting a painful need in her_

_To comfort, to soothe._

_To give him everything._

_To ease his pain._

_He kisses her neck. Her collarbone. Her chest._

_Wet, hot open mouthed kisses._

_Marking her._

_Leaving his scent all over her._

_So other males will know she’s his._

_His movements hungry. Needy. Rough._

_Squeezing her hips, pulling them into his_

_Telling her what he would do if they were truly alone._

 

The kiss ends. They pause, panting. Foreheads pressed together. Slowing their shaky breaths. Smiling. She can feel his smile when they kiss again. Wide and bright. He kisses her again and again. Slower each time.

 

Nick finally breaks the silence. His voice rough, low and gravely with arousal.

 

“Hey.”

 

“Hey.” She breathes back

 

“How’s it goin’?”

 

“Better now.”

 

They chuckle quietly. His pick up lines haven’t gotten any better. 

 

Nick kisses her again. Murmuring softly into her lips. "I'm sorry. It wasn't enough. The hands. I needed more."

 

June smiles widely, kissing him back. "Me too."

 

He nods, kissing her again sensuously. Caressing her cheek with his thumb.

 

When he finally breaks away for air, he presses his forehead to hers gently. Nuzzling her nose with his. 

 

“I’ll send for you. 6 months tops. I’ve got a plan.”

 

“It’s a date.”

 

They kiss quickly. One last peck.

 

They adjust their clothes. Nick retrieves her hat while she twists her hair into a quick bun. He settles the bonnet on her head carefully. She combs through his messy hair. She stops when she realizes it’s hopeless. He looks like he just woke up. It can’t be fixed. She focuses instead on adjusting his tie.

 

Nick leaves the closet first, making sure it’s safe. Signaling her out with a nod. They fall into well practiced position. Him in front, her a few strides behind, body language submissive. Captor and captive.

 

He escorts her back to her position then walks away without a glance.

 

She steps forward, into the crowd. Lips swollen from kissing him. Skin tingling. Heart pumping joy. Radiant as sunlight. High. Stoned. Drunk off him.

 

Covered with his scent. Stinking of him and her own arousal.

 

She smirks and looks around. Wondering if anyone else can smell it. Hoping they can. Excited by the thought.

 

It’s not until she’s back at her room at Lawrence’s, undressing the next day that she feels another note in her pocket. She’s instantly flooded with heat. She closes her eyes. Feeling his mouth, his hands on her.

 

She opens her eyes. Drawing a shaky breath. She looks at the note.

 

_I'll write soon_

 

**Author's Note:**

> Stick with us. We have a beautiful journey planned for these two. Hoping to update the series weekly. Because this ship deserves more than one brush of the fingers in 4 episodes. Come on, Hulu. If you're not going to the work, we are. Come chat with us on Tumblr. @dystopiandramaqueen


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